The Uniforms We Wear: Alter Egos and Why We Need Them

“We tried to make a heaven of earth,
But the earth is just a stage, a school,
Where we wear our masks and play our roles
And teach each other how to love.”
― Kate McGahan

When I was 14 years old, I applied and was accepted to military school. This is probably a set-up for a novel unto itself, but for the time being, I would like to zero in on one early aspect of this experience: The uniform. I had several. I had an everyday Class C. I had a ceremonial Class A. I had the feminine extension of both, which included a skirt and healed dress shoes. I had fatigues for wargames. I had PT attire consisting of school issue shorts and T-shirts, matching everyone else. My hair was kept up or sometimes, shorn shortly. These uniforms were extension of self. We were asked to iron creases, spitshine our shoes and brass adornments and keep up appearances to appear both sharp and also exactly like everyone else. Deviance was not appreciated. There was a collective image and identity fostered in the experience. We were cadets. We were hardcore. We were disciplined. We were a unit. We were American. We were a lot of things in ideal projection. And some of us believed it.